The first thing the girl notices is pain.
It seeps slowly through her body as consciousness stirs; a dull, aching throb in her limbs and bones. Her arms and legs feel heavy, her body uncooperative. When she tries to groan, her throat rasps dryly; her voice cracks. Her eyelids feel like lead, but she forces them open.

Darkness. She lies on her back, staring into an endless void.

Am I dead? she wonders.
But no… death isn’t supposed to hurt, is it? The veil parts, and you step through it into colorful, swirling light. No pain. No body. Just air and brightness, and the goddess weighs your soul on her scales.
A strange thought. How does she even know that?

The second thing she notices is that it’s snowing. Heavy flakes fall onto her face, clinging to her lashes, melting against her cheeks. They touch her arms and legs, bare skin meeting cold, soft caresses. It almost feels pleasant, if not for the deep ache in her body.

Slowly, agonizingly, she rolls onto her side. Her breath hitches, as though her lungs have forgotten how to draw air. Every muscle screams at the effort, as if she hasn’t moved in years. Ragged clouds of breath puff from her lips into the air.
So… not dead, then.

The third thing she notices is that she’s practically naked. A thin shawl hangs from her shoulders, falling only to her hips,useless against the wind. Yet the cold doesn’t quite bite her, not as it should. Her pale legs and bare feet untouched by frost. Her hair, long and white as the snow beneath her, spills over her neck and shoulders. Was it always that way?

Thoughts begin to swirl like the wind.

Where am I? How did I get here? What am I doing out here?
Her mind claws for meaning, for memory, but it’s like hauling a bucket from an empty well. Heavy, slow, and yielding nothing.
Who am I?

The realization steals her breath. Panic sets in. Her heart hammers against her ribs as she looks wildly around, searching for anything familiar…but there’s nothing. Only ice. Only darkness. Only a wind that begins to sound like a hungry howl.

A whimper escapes her lips. No… this is not death. I will not die here.
She forces herself onto her hands and knees.

Her body protests every movement, but with each breath, strength begins to stir… faint, flickering. Movement helps. She crawls to a nearby rock shelf; the stone is slick with frost beneath her trembling fingers. She grips it, pushes herself upright.

One thing is certain; she can’t stay here.
The darkness is deepening, and even if the cold hasn’t claimed her yet, it will. With no sense of direction, she begins to walk. One step, then another. The wind rises, howling in earnest, and she clutches the shawl tighter around her shoulders, her white hair whipping about her face.

Just one step, she thinks. And then another… and another.